Road Rage
by LM
Summary: J'onn J'onzz struggles to get the soon-to-be Justice League International over to the U.N. building AND keep his sanity. Sure, he can do one or the other . . . but both?


_Author's Notes:_

I do not own any of the characters; they all belong to DC Comics. I am not making a profit off of them. This story is solely for the purpose of entertainment. 

God bless the JLI! (Remember--_Formerly Known as the Justice League_ comes out on 8/2/03 at your local comic book shop! Booster Gold, Blue Beetle, Captain Atom . . . *happy sob*)

* * *

  


_**Road Rage**_

  
Initially, J'onn J'onzz was somewhat flattered when Batman announced that he was withdrawing from his position as the leader of the Justice League and conferring the title on the last green Martian. He blushed a little (not that anyone could tell, with his green skin) when Batman explained in front of the assembled Justice League that, as an urban legend, he worked best out of the spotlight. He explained that J'onn could lead the UN-sponsored Justice League International with absolute objectivity, since the Martian Manhunter hailed from an alien planet. He explained that J'onn's telepathy would be invaluable in commanding the group. 

In fact, Batman went on and on explaining why J'onn was a better choice than he was until the Martian began to wonder if he was sick; he'd never heard the reticent vigilante utter so many sentences at one time, especially considering that none of them consisted "Hn", "Grrr", or "Beetle, stop that."

Yes, at the time J'onn was honored. It was only some weeks later that it occurred to him that Batman had looked rather . . . smug . . . about shoving the mantle of leadership onto someone else. J'onn supposed that should have been his first warning.

"Beetle, stop that," the Martian Manhunter said in his calm monotone, not looking back from the wheel of the white mini-van with the false wood paneling running along the outside, in contrast to the sagging maroon interior. 

"Stop what?" 

"That."

"But I'm not DOING anything!"

"You're thinking about it."

"Well, aren't YOU the mind-reader!" Beetle rolled his eyes . . . then paused. "Oh yeah . . ."

"Speaking of self-restraint," Black Canary said sweetly, tossing her long blonde hair, "if our resident Green Lantern doesn't move his hand now, and I mean NOW, he's not going to have a hand to move."

J'onn could see Guy Gardner's lewd grin reflected in the rear-view mirror. "Can't keep your mitts off me, can you Canary?" 

"No, Guy, that would be YOUR problem, actually--"

"Yeah Guy, grow up," Booster Gold added.

"That's a good one coming from someone who gets carded every time we go anywhere--"

"I do NOT!"

"Well, actually . . . you kind of do, Booster."

"Shut up, Beetle."

"If I'm really the world's greatest escape artist, how come I'm here?" Mister Miracle muttered under his breath as he stared out the window, resting his chin on one hand and trying to tug his extensive green cape out from under the other passengers. 

"Can I be helpink you with somethink, comrade?" enquired the hulking figure next to him, encased in a massive suit of red and white power armor (decorated with the hammer and sickle) which required him to lean forward to avoid smacking his head against the sagging maroon ceiling of the van. 

"Not unless you can redirect two-thirds of the League to Arkham Asylum, Rocket Red . . ."

"Alas, this I am not able to be doing!"

"We should be so lucky," Captain Atom added drily from the other side of the Russian. Due to the bulk of Rocket Red's power armor, the silver-skinned hero was plastered up against the window, and he did not look particularly happy about it.

"God, this is _so_ humiliating!" Booster Gold grumbled. He had the honor of riding shotgun, since no one wanted to sit next to him due to his propensity for motion-sickness. "You know, if we _had_ to arrive in one of these antiquated . . . _auto-things--"_ (Booster was from the 25th century.) "--then I could've just taken the Boostermobile."

There was a pregnant, pause, then . . . 

"You're kidding, right?" Black Canary raised a carefully plucked eyebrow. "The _Boostermobile?"_

"What? What's wrong with that??"

"Booster. Maxwell Lord stressed that he wanted us to arrive at the U.N. building _together_ to symbolize our solidarity," J'onn said, cutting off further discussion of customized cars. 

"'Max said'," Blue Beetle mimicked. "Well, I notice our PR man or civilian leader or whatever the heck Max is supposed to be isn't crammed in the van with us!"

This was true. J'onn tried to think of a satisfactory response to that. "Max . . . is a millionaire," was all he could come up with. 

_"I'm_ a millionaire!" Blue Beetle and Booster Gold chorused together, and then (still in sync), "You TOO?"

"You two are nuts, you know that?"

"Shut up, Miracle!" Booster snapped, leaning back over his seat. "We wouldn't _be_ crammed in this smelly old van if SOMEONE hadn't crashed our custom-built S.T.A.R. Labs shuttlecraft."

"And taken off our headquarter's _roof,"_ Black Canary added, crossing her arms. 

_"All_ superteams land their crafts on the roof!" Mister Miracle protested, his voice rising.

"All the ones that don't have woodrot, you mean."

"How was _I_ supposed to know??"

"You know, I just thought of something else--" Beetle began.

"Oooo, the bug had a thought! Mark it on the calendar!"

Blue Beetle ignored Guy's derisive tone and continued, "If we're all supposed to arrive together, why isn't Batman one of the sardines stuffed in this tin can?"

"That is one of the strangest metaphors I've ever heard," Captain Atom said from the backseat. "But you know, he has a point."

"Heeeeey, he's right! Where _is_ old pointy-ears? Not man enough to be around Guy Gardner, I'll bet. Probably afraid I'll pop him one." Guy slammed his fist into his open palm by way of illustration.

"Oh _please,_ enough with the macho posturing already!" Canary groaned, covering her face with her hands.

"Machismo is what Guy Gardner's all about, babe."

"J'onn . . . Batman?" Beetle repeated. 

"Batman is . . ." J'onn felt a headache coming on. "He is . . . not a team player."

"Oh, that is _such_ a cop-out," Booster grumbled, crossing his arms. "If I'd known it would get me out of this . . . thing . . . I wouldn't have been a team player either."

"I am thinking so as well, comrade," Rocket Red agreed, his helmet adding an oddly synthesized tone to his sigh.

"Please, childre--I mean, friends--we are nearly there," J'onn assured them, his green fingers gripped tightly around the steering wheel. They _had_ to be close. Great H'ronmeer, _please_ let them be close . . . With a sigh of relief, he finally spotted the glittering UN building rearing against the skyline, with the flags of over a hundred nations lined proudly in front of the graceful rectangular structure, just behind the police cars and the Batmobile--

Police . . . cars? Batmobile?

"Oh yeah, the 'dark urban legend' thing is real convincing when you leave a huge black cruiser with bat-fins parked in broad daylight in front of the U.N.," Beetle muttered. "If he wants to blend in so badly, why doesn't he get a beat up Honda?"

"It's the car," Booster confided, turning around in his seat. "Chicks dig the car."

J'onn carefully pulled up to the curb. "Remain here," he instructed. "I will investigate." Not bothering to open the van door, he simply turned intangible and floated through it. 

Policemen were swarming around the Batmobile, standing in small clusters as they eyed it distrustfully or made disapproving notes on thick pads of paper. "What seems to be the problem, officers?" J'onn asked politely, approaching with his deep blue cape swirling around him. There was a moment of silence as the group turned en masse to regard him.

"Is this your vehicle, sir?" one officer asked drily. 

"Not exactly--" J'onn said cautiously . . . then narrowly restrained a groan of dismay as he heard a car door opening behind him. He didn't want to look, but he did anyway. Sure enough, the Justice League was piling out of the minivan. There was an oddly surreal quality to the scene, yet it was vaguely reminiscent of the familiar circus scene featuring a multitude of clowns exiting one tiny car. Not that the car in question was tiny. But then circus clowns weren't bulked up with excessive biceps and power armor, either.

"What the hell is that?" the policeman said incredulously.

"Your guess is as good as mine at this point, officer," the Martian sighed.

"Hey J'onny, what's up?" Guy Gardner demanded, flying up seated on (of all things) a green armchair created by his power ring.

"Yeah, what's with all the cops?" Beetle craned his neck. "Where's Bats?"

"I am somewhat surprised to see you here," J'onn said, only gritting his teeth a _little_ bit, "since I _thought_ I instructed you to stay in the _van."_

"Come on, J'onn. Give us a break. Haven't we suffered enough?" Mister Miracle asked. 

"Hear hear," muttered the silver-skinned Captain Atom, who was floating nearby.

"I will not be responsible for my actions if I have to sit by Guy ever again," Black Canary added, crossing her arms.

"Ahhh, the girls all say that . . . and then they BEG me to take them home," the Green Lantern leered.

"Why, you disgusting--!"

"You are not understandink the way to treat a lady, I am thinking," Rocket Red said in disapproval.

"Whatever, Commie."

"PLEASE could you restrain yourselves for a few minutes?" J'onn said loudly, shifting his body slightly to expand his lung capacity so he could really boom out his message. The Leaguers looked at him, somewhat abashed. "Now . . . what is the problem with Batman's--I mean, with this car."

"Well, what's it look like, greenie? It's in a no parking zone," one of the officers said. "We're waiting for the tow truck--"

"Ohhhh, Bats isn't going to like that," Booster said worriedly. The Martian Manhunter held up a hand to silence him.

"Gentlemen, that will not be necessary. I take it that the area over _there--"_ J'onn gestured with a sweep of his arm, _"--is_ a legitimate parking area?"

"Well, sure, over _there_ . . ."

"Ah. Observe the problem-solving abilities of the Justice League at work, then." He smiled, strode over to the Batmobile, and casually lifted it above his head with one hand. A general widening of eyes and dropping of jaws followed as the Martian walked over to the nearby parking space and carefully set down the gleaming black roadster. 

"Well . . . okay . . . that was pretty cool," Booster ventured.

"Huh." Blue Beetle crossed his arms. "So he can benchpress cars. Effortlessly. With one hand. Big deal. I mean, I . . . invent stuff." He paused. "God, I hate my life!"

"At least you don't have to put up with Gardner trying to grope you all the time," Canary glared at Guy, who was floating on a green hammock, whistling innocently.

"Um . . . okay, right, no he doesn't and that's good on many, many levels," Beetle agreed, looking askance at Canary. 

"Here comes Big Green," commented Booster, who hadn't been following the conversation. Indeed, J'onn approached the group of superheroes and police officers, smiling broadly. "Well, gentlemen--"

"And ladies."

"Gentlemen and ladies," J'onn said with a glance at Black Canary. "I think that effectively solves our little parking prob--"

Behind him, a shrill mechanical shriek suddenly split the air, centered around the Batmobile.

"You know, I could be wrong," Beetle said, "but I think Bats might have installed some kind of car alarm on his roadster."

"Thank you, Beetle, for your keen observation," the Martian Manhunter gritted.

"No problem."

The group of public servants and vigilantes cautiously drew near, gathering around the blaring car. "Well, _now_ it's creating a public nuisance," one of the blue-uniformed officers said, scribbling down something on a pad of paper.

"I could blast it--" Captain Atom offered, already gathering quantum energy around his fists, but J'onn emphatically said, "NO. Please, allow me . . ." The Martian's skin suddenly shifted to semi-transparency as he moved straight through the frame of the Batmobile, sitting down in the driver's seat.

"So . . . wait. _Why_ does he need the rest of us again?" Booster Gold asked.

"Who else is going to make the coffee?" Blue Beetle shrugged.

"Point." 

"Well, whatever he's doing, I don't think it's working," Captain Atom frowned. Indeed, the car continued its cacophony, only increasing in volume. However, after a minute the sleek black roof of the car did slide back.

"Although I was able to successfully open the roof, I am having some . . . difficulty . . . mastering the controls," J'onn admitted reluctantly, frowning as he floated out of the driver's seat. 

"With my experience with Apokoliptan technology, I shouldn't have any difficulty--"

"Hey, _I'm_ from the 25th century, so it should be a snap for me to figure out--"

"Excuse me? Remember me? The mechanically-inclined genius _inventor?_ Now move aside and let me just--"

Mister Miracle, Booster Gold, and Blue Beetle all surged into the cockpit at once, pushing and shoving as they dove for the controls. What happened next was, perhaps, inevitable. 

"AIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!"

J'onn J'onzz watched the Batmobile careening down the street and found that he didn't feel one iota of surprise as the car skidded around the building, out of sight, on two wheels.

"Holeee--did you see that?" Guy Gardner demanded gleefully.

"No, Guy, we missed the part where the Three Stooges drove away in the Batmobile," Captain Atom said drily.

"Hey Cap, maybe if you loosen up you can finally unclench your--"

"Guy. Shut up and go get the Batmobile." 

"Awww, you take the fun out of everything J'onzz." Gardner summoned a green motorcycle with his power ring and revved off, popping a wheelie. "Hey, silver skin--get some pants!" he yelled as he disappeared around the corner. Captain Atom scowled after him, crossing his arms and unobtrusively moving behind a conveniently positioned police cruiser.

"What is it we will be doing now?" Red Rocket queried. "Are you to be going after them, Manhunting Maritan?"

"I don't think I have the energy," J'onn replied honestly.

"We might as well wait here," Black Canary agreed, leaning back against a police car.

Suddenly someone called from across the plaza: "J'onn! _There_ you are!" The remaining members of the Justice League turned to see a brown-haired man in a dapper business suit hurrying towards them, wearing his best snake oil smile. It faded a bit when he grew closer, though. "Wait, there are only three of you? Where are the others?" 

"You know these clowns?" one of the policemen asked, raising an eyebrow.

The business man turned to him with dignity, head held high. "I'm Maxwell Lord, and these are _my_ clowns, gentlemen."

"Better yours than mine," one of the other officers said.

Max frowned, then returned his attention to the Martian Manhunter. "J'onn? Where's everybody else? Booster, Blue Beetle, Mister Miracle . . . and Guy, I guess," he said with some reluctance. 

"They are . . . around, Max."

"Around where?" He looked around.

"They should be by any second." The Martian tilted his head, hearing a faint shriek, not unlike those heard on the most perilous of rollercoasters, increasing in volume. A moment later the Batmobile sped by, with Blue Beetle frantically clutching the steering wheel with one hand and pushing random buttons with the other, Booster Gold kneeling backwards in the passenger seat, desperately clutching a handful of Mister Miracle's cape as the escape artist clung to the trunk of the car, and Guy Gardner shouting obscenities as he was pulled along in the car's wake, stubbornly clinging a ring-constructed fishing rod hooked to the Batmobile's bumper. "And there they go."

"Oh, for heaven's sake . . . tell the boys to stop playing and let's get going. We don't want to be late for the General Assembly, now do we?"

"Heaven forbid," Captain Atom said, then muttered, "If we're going in front of the General Assembly, I want pants."

"Ha ha! That's what I like about you super-types--you have such a sense of humor!" Max patted the silver-skinned captain on the shoulder.

"Ha ha," Atom returned wanly.

"Now come on, get the rest of the gang over here and let's go in. We want to make a good impression, don't we? We want the United Nations to accept us as their very own official superteam, don't we?"

"I don't know; _do_ we?" J'onn countered.

"J'onn, J'onn . . ." Max smiled his most appealing smile. "Just think--the fate of the world could very well rest in our hands."

J'onn watched the Batmobile rocket by again, accompanied by screams. "That's what I'm afraid of."

"What's going on here?" a dark voice gritted, soft enough so only the clustered group of superheroes (plus Max) heard it. They all glanced around in confusion. "Up here. In the tree." 

They raised their faces skyward and stared open-mouthed at the Dark Knight, half-obscured by maple leaves. "I can't wait to get back to Gotham. Not enough shadows here. No gargoyles either."

"Ah . . . well . . ." Max recovered from his surprise enough to say, "Batman! Glad to see you here--"

"Keep your voice down, Lord." Pause. "Where's my car?" As if on cue, the Batmobile lapped the building again. "They _didn't,"_ Batman ground in a voice that threatened vague and horrible fates.

"They did," Black Canary confirmed.

"And how," Captain Atom said.

"To be fair, Batman, they were only trying to help move your car, which was improperly parked," J'onn pointed out, floating a few feet above the ground to converse more easily with the shadowy vigilante. 

"Well, tell them to stop."

"I think that is what they are attempting, my friend," Rocket Red ventured.

"Hn." Batman stared angrily through the cheerful green leaves, then pulled a small electronic device (which resembled a tiny remote control) out of his utility belt. When the Batmobile sped into view again, he lightly tapped a single button on it. The smell of burning rubber filled the air as the car abruptly changed direction, skidding in a circle a few times before slamming to a stop.

"Ohhhhhh . . . my heaaaaad . . ." Blue Beetle flopped back in the driver's seat, flinging an arm across his forehead.

"My _stomach!"_ Mister Miracle whimpered, crawling to the ground on his hands and knees.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Booster Gold said shakily.

"Rocket Red. Canary. Atom. Get them out of my car. _Now._ ESPECIALLY Gold."

"Oh, so _you're_ in command again?" Canary raised an eyebrow.

"Please, do as he asks," J'onn requested. She shrugged, dissatisfied, but moved off, followed by Captain Atom and Rocket Red. Maxwell Lord hurried after them; J'onn thought he could hear him calling to Booster, reminding him that it was _very bad publicity_ to be sick in public.

"So . . ." Batman said.

"So . . ."

"How are you holding up, J'onn?"

"Currently I need three bags of oreos to get through a day, but I'm trying to cut down."

"Ah."

"You know . . . if you _did_ decide you wanted to lead the Justice League again--"

"No chance in hell."

"No, I didn't think so."

Batman was silent for a few minutes. Then he said, "You'll be directing them at all kinds of bizarre menaces, you know. Would-be conquerors. Alien invaders. Hostile metahumans. Think you can handle it?"

"Batman, I am confident that when the forces of injustice see the JLI gathered around them, they will be cowed into submission with a single, threatening word."

"Oh? And what's that?"

J'onn watched the heroes struggling out of the Batmobile with dizzy, stumbling steps. Booster was doubled over on his hands and knees and did not appear to have listened to Max's advice re: vomiting.

"Roadtrip."

  


_The End_


End file.
